Star Trek: Janus The Shadowy Depths
by Maramaduke Ellias
Summary: Sea and space are both an abyss, stare into it and it stares back, biding its time...
1. Chapter 1

Star Trek Janus: Shadowy Depths

DISCLAIMER**:** Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. And if requested by the copyright holders this work will be removed from the public domain. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

Author's note:

This piece uses the mirror universe, however unlike most stories it does not include the mirror counterparts of the Federation crew portrayed here. This is because while the mirror universe is the opposite of our own I do not believe that it means the alternate crew always has to be involved. As I believe the alternate crew would be somewhere else, doing the opposite or at the very least something markedly different to they're opposite numbers in our Starfleet. I have written this here so people do not feel cheated by the content of this work…. but I sincerely hope you will read on and enjoy it.

**ISS Spartha**

_In standard orbit of Julian four _

…How dare they order him to stand down! How dare those waterborne rodents claim to have discovered something that his space borne brethren could never reach! Captain Nathan Alderhay stalked around his ready room, his bodyguard outside ready to defend his charge but not witness his near maniacal rant. For 20 years Nathan had climbed each warm blood soaked rung of the rank chart in the Empires mighty Starfleet. He walked to his chair and sat down his finger angrily jabbing at the desk mounted PADD. His eyes lethargically read over the Empire Naval Patrol report with little enthusiasm past his wanton desire to find something wrong so he could legitimately blow a few dozen of those saps out of the water with the Spatha's well worn phaser arrays. His ready room was a twisting horrible tumult of cold-blooded and logically harnessed blazing fury; a raging tumult that lost its command of the room and was driven to its knees by nothing more than a repetitive high-pitched chirp.

"Alderhay."

"My good Captain, I trust you have found my report enlightening?"

"Hardly Commander, between your bluster I fail to see why the anomaly you have found is so interesting, especially when your seas are seemingly falling into open rebellion."

The line went dead, the use of the word rebellion, the most dreaded and putrid word that could pass between those who served the Empire with their hands wrapped around its instruments of war and dominion seemingly cut short their edged banter. Nathan's brows rose in an unaccustomed show of inner thought when a small childlike laugh wafted from the PADDs internal speaker.

"Oh now Captain, rebellions are really most trite when viewed beside what I have found, maybe you need to join me on my ship and see for yourself."

Alderhay had been monetarily wrong footed by his aquatic counterpart as his mind tried to take in the blatantly treacherous undertone in his request. Nathan was about to reply as the Commanders voice left one last mocking and gentile offer.

"And feel free to bring your bodyguard along with you… Captain."

**USS Ark Royal**

_En-Route Julian four _

The room was warm and the air damp as the four members of Starfleet and the S.F.M.C slept in their cramped, or cosy, cots. Three slept soundly as one was caught in chains of cold sweat and invisible demons that pricked the muscles of a troubled twitching brow. While his body rested underneath the sheets his mind registered only the tight bounds of twisted fabric that rubbed against ankles and arms. His breathing was short, erratic, trying to feed a heart that demanded oxygen to fight a war that was long over.

"Two minutes, TWO MINUTES!"

The grey cliffs now erupted in flame, as the water around them became a boiling cauldron of fountains of lead laced surf. No shuttles for these marines…no battles between the stars. Now they were cattle, poised and highly trained, but cattle non-the less. Their target was a terrorist camp situated in hills whose metals barred transport and gave too many plateaus for anti aircraft positions to slice gleaming white shuttled into flaming blackened hulks. So the Star Fleet Marines were going to war upon water using antiquated aqua-shuttles last seen on Kirk's Enterprise.

John glanced at the combat tricorder strapped to his left forearm for the hundredth time; they were going in blind, with only their rifles and their feet for equipment. Sergeant Major John David Bryant cast his eyes across his men who huddled into the cramped confines of the antiquated shuttle. Its only saving grace was that they would exit from the rear and not down the gullet of the enemy's fire.

John walked back to the control deck as his eyes were dragged toward the beach already being pulverised by the tell tale green streaks of disrupter fire and saw the first shuttle go in and be slammed with disrupter fire. Knowing that each shuttle could take 15 he only counted 6. He turned back to his men.

"John…"

Bryant was about ready to rip off the head of the marine who dared to use his first name…

"John"

It wasn't one of his marines his hand dropped to his sidearm as a matter of course. John glanced to all corners of the shuttle but the owner of the voice still eluded him.

"John David!"

Bryant was suddenly surrounded by an enlisted mans quarters as his head exploded with a blunt throbbing pain as his head met the cots roof. John rubbed his head and quietly swore to himself. His eyes weren't adjusted to the dark but the faint perfume told him everything he needed to know.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah John you should really gag yourself sometimes"

"Yeah you wish."

"Yeah I do that way I won't wake up at 0300."

"That late?"

"Come on."

"Aye, Master Chief."

John lifted himself up and out of his bunk and wrestled with his marine green shirt…it didn't go particularly well with the training pants he slept in but at 0300 hours he doubted anyone would notice. As he fought to get his combat boots on as quietly as possible he felt the two green eyes of Master Chief Petty Officer Sarah Gibson burn into him. He did feel a little guilty Sarah slept so lightly that she would have made a great marine, but it also meant that his nightmares woke her on more than one occasion.

John followed her out of their makeshift basha and into the oppressing brightly lit corridors of the _USS Ark Royal_. John soon found his space legs again even at this early hour, the time when gamma shift went about their duties with little in the way of overt chit chat. Bryant noticed that the Master Chief was wearing a uniform skirt and smiled as it framed her aft beautifully. Soon the enlisted pair was down in the business decks of the _Ark Royal, _she was a Nova class with only one major difference to her sister ships. Her cargo bays had been hollowed out with clamshell doors running across starboard and port. And in place of work bees she had been outfitted with two impulse patrol boats, armed to the teeth with duel type III phaser rifle turrets and a few 24th century bazookas to boot.

She was also unique, the first of her kind and as the paranoia of the Dominion war had abated, probably the last as well. Between the stars in the Federations latest war the usefulness of the small fighters had been starkly illustrated. This had finally trickled down to the often forgotten Federation Naval Patrol, whose losses had been just as severe as the fleets as the Dominion used smaller and lighter naval ships that quickly cut into and decimated Naval Patrol fleets. So the Naval Patrol wanted something that could deliver small ships with a mighty array of firepower right between hell's teeth. So the little Nova class with shields, torpedoes, phaser arrays and landing struts was picked out for the experiment. Then the modified Nova was packed full of combat tested fleet personnel and a platoon worth of marines (preferably crazy or ex-special forces or in some way not quite right by they standards of the marine handbook) and the _Ark Royal _was ready to go.

John ran his hand over one of his boats and couldn't resist jumping in to check the double rifle mount; Sarah just leaned against the hull and sighed. John had finally climbed up one of the black nylon rope ladders and was checking the dead phaser mount, ducking and weaving under the heavy-duty servo arms that in time of crisis would carry the boats and their marines into harms way. John heard his friend and Master Chief sing her perfect and somewhat annoying tune of grunts and dismal hums.

"You didn't have to come down here!"

"Oh yeah and just let you scream your head off again."

"Damn squids always wrapping people up in cotton wool."

"You should know."

Sarah laughed out her reply as her NCO training took the sting out of her annoyance when faced with the Sergeant Majors good-humoured banter. John quickly disembarked from the _USS Albion_ one of the two impulse patrol boats the other, _USS Bulwark, _were named in honour of two amphibious assault ships used by the ancient Royal Navy of the United Kingdom.

"Yeah, as I was a squid all those years ago."

John took Sarah's shoulder in his grip and squeezed it; any other show of camaraderie would be dicey. Bryant then checked the servo arm control console in the centre of the ex-cargo bays, the maintenance boys of course would have made sure it was good to go, but John wanted to see for himself so he could lead his marines knowing he had checked as many things as he could of before the call.

Sarah let John finish his poking around as that was how he got back to normal after a bout of night terrors; he wouldn't talk about and tried as often as he could to do this ritual on his own, a ritual that sometimes took on a macabre edge with the distant look haunting a pair of youthful blue eyes. As John looked across to each of the massive doors that would open up to push his boats out into the deep blue sky or viscous foaming surf Sarah piped up again.

"This may be our last training exercise before we are de-mobbed, you know?"

"Sarah those rumours have been going around since we bloody left the refit!"

"Yeah but the Dominion war is long gone."

"Yeah like every other war, look right now we can give the Naval Patrol a fast moving symbol of power…an armed star ship with a couple of patrol boats to boot. Until we get too expensive to run or get mothballed in spending cuts we will just be a quiet oddity that helps the seas of the Federation run smooth."

**Imperial Naval Patrol Base Julian Julian four**

Commander Alexia West leaned back in her soft leather chair, a warm and sensuous air danced in from the sea, carrying the fresh cirrus hues of blossoms and fruit all savagely undercut by the salty signature of the sea. She was terribly young to command a full fleet and a shipyard of her own. But that didn't really bother her; looks and a sharp blade were really useful for promotion from underneath the nearest Admiral. West let a long and poised finger draw itself around the rim of her snifter full of Andorian Brandy, they may have been mere evolutionally throwbacks, but like the ancient bootleggers they could mix a good drink. Her console beeped to give her fair warning of Captain Alderhay's arrival. She hoped that he was fighting mad and ready for a verbal duel…of course if she had guessed wrong and acted immaturely she was faced with the proposition of…well…unpleasantness.

"Well, Commander West?"

"Please sit Captain, and allow your most masculine of guards to partake of my staff's hospitality."

West's lips twitched in mirth as once again her star sailing guest was at a loss. But her smile also concealed a measure of met expectations as she caught a sight of the type II phaser hanging at his waist. Alderhay's bodyguard left as he was guided by one of West's alluring lesser amazons. West stayed silent and sipped her drink as her eyes wandered over Nathan Alderhay. Trying to gauge the man she had only read about in reports from a family that she had only heard about through second hand rumour from the very seat of the Empire. Nathan's eyes were cold brown pits of nothingness as he sat prim and proper opposite her desk. Alexia hummed an old lullaby before speaking.

"Captain may I welcome you to I.N.P.B Julian and the Julian ship yards, I am pleased you decided to join me."

"Join you? Commander I must warn you that I am here as a member of the Terran Empire, as such your treacherous language is my most pressing concern."

"Of course, Captain. I would expect no less from the Alderhay family, though perhaps you would allow my to show you what I have found that puts such language in my mouth?"

Alexia smiled leaning back in her chair feeling more confident of her surrounds, she wasn't dead and as a close range phaser bolt was the usual reply to any talk of treason she had a momentary reprieve. West stood and tossed a PADD over to the Captain. As Alderhay read through it with more vigour than the report he had read in his ready room an hour or so earlier, Alexia went about gathering her accruements of state.

She was clad in the daily duty uniform of the Empire Naval Patrol: a one piece suit of deep blue with black trim around the waist and shoulders, her left shoulder was emblazed with the symbol of the Empire that stretched right around from front to back. Her right shoulder was all black and its only contrast came with the three silver bars of a Commanders rank. West reached for her peak cap and her half cape; both throwbacks to the archaic sea rovers who use the wind and the compass to ply their trade. She remained standing with a casual stance that sacked of standing at ease with a little of flaunting her wears, after all like all martial branches of the Empire you were expected to use every weapon at your disposal. She stood and let Nathan finish.

"Tell me Captain, have you ever seen a Naval Patrol ship yard? They are very interesting places."

Nathan stood up and looked through the large gold gilded doors to see if his bodyguard was in sight, he wasn't, and as Nathan twisted back round he realised he had fallen into arcadia's web. The Commander had used the gambit of treason to get him running to her at warp 8. And now he was here she was showing him, teasing him with something that could incite mutiny and treason….Nathan wondered if this was just some ruse by Imperial Internal Security. It had been known for the agents of purity and devotion to the Empire to run a Captain half way across the quadrant into honey traps like these. But Alderhay doubted he would come into their plans as he had achieved 97% first attack fatalities over his last three cleansing missions and his follow up attacks had been fiery exclamations marks to the Empires view of dissention.

With the threat of a cloaked dagger far away, Nathan rose to accompany Alexia, the two officers started to saunter toward the massive and imposing slip ways and dry docks that made up the arteries and veins of a perverse living symbol of flesh and tritanium to the might of the Terran Empire; the flesh of the ship yard toiled below the two officers in the dank pits of the dry docks…captured labour put to work carrying out the dangerous and laborious task of building the frameworks of the Naval Patrols watery steeds. Nathan looked down with pure curiosity on the scenes below him. The Fleet used Marines as shock troopers and deadly scalpels and cleaves, but below him the most feared soldiers in the universe had been turned into a sort of frightful nanny. Each marine stood in their daily uniforms with nothing more than a long stick…it looked like a stick at any rate…West just kept on walking as the click-click of her boots kept Alderhay moving along in time.

"Captain we use slave labour like any branch of the Empire does, I believe the fleet uses slave labour for some cooking and I believe many a female slave helps relieve some of the more vigorous flag officers."

Nathan was about to lay his curiosity aside for the untermenschen in the pits of the Naval Patrol forges as a mighty Klingon roar exploded from the pits where flashes from plasma torches mingled with the crimson butterflies of bolt welders, Nathan saw a Klingon make a break toward one of the nasty nannies and in a second the innocent looking stick came to life caught in a baleful dull red glow. West stopped and cast a lazy look upon the scene akin to the look on Nathan's face as he cast rebellious crew into the agoniser booth to let them mull on their error with a little pain to focus the mind. Nathan was utterly captivated by the scene as the burly Klingon with his welder attempted to take the marine's head off at the shoulders, but with a slight sidestep and a viscous short stab the Klingon was on the ground and crying out, as the marine kept the red stick in contact with the Klingon's thick alien hide as the smell of gently roasted flesh mingled with the other heavy odours of a shipyard.

Soon the writhing creature no longer held any cursorily for the fleet officer to familiar with seeing this pitiful display of alien weakness on his won ship day in and day out. Soon the wonders of the shipyard again held Nathan's eyes as he saw the sharks of the Empire come to life in the numerous dry docks scattered around him. Soon Alexia had guided the Captain through the concrete jungle of mourning rigs and cranes to the out edges of the ship yard that were brushed with soft white sands and inviting seas. A vision of paradise savagely sliced in two by a ship sized phaser barrage that jetted like a gods angry gaze into the side of Patrol ships long past their best; and like all things of that age in the Empire they were summarily used to strengthen their younger replacements by means of their slow and painful demise.

Nathan looked behind him and saw the massive phaser cannons in their swivel batteries all pointing out to sea, but after a momentous stream of fire he was confused to why they had fell silent, especially as before him there still was something of the old vessels still afloat. His eyes studied the now silent gun emplacements until a searing red glow momentarily took his site and as he turned round the battered target fleet was no more laying in pieces at the bottom of a turquoise sea.

"Our ships only use impulse engines my dear Captain, using warp in atmosphere is suicidal and counter productive as it would cause a terrible incident. So our phaser batteries need at least two minutes to fully recharge or we risk cutting power to the rest of the ship, naval tactics require a little forethought, something I doubt you have been introduced to."

Alexia smiled and looked out to sea as she felt the electricity ripple off a bristling spaceship Captain. She let him stew a while as the breeze caught her half cloak and lifted it up showing of her shapely form…the game of power politic was as much theatrical flair as intellectual superiority…she let him catch her out of the corner of his eye before going on. The scene was set and now it was the time for the act where words of treachery and deceit were spoken as softly as words of tender solace.

"Well, Captain, I hope my command has suitably impressed you."

"And I am meant to be impressed why?"

"Because it proves my amply abilities in command, and perhaps will help me if you find this next question… morally testing."

"The question being?"

"What do you know of our past Emperor Tiberius? Or more to the point… a Captain by the name of James Tiberius Kirk?"


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. And if requested by the copyright holders this work will be removed from the public domain. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

**USS Ark Royal  
**_Entering standard orbit of Julian four_

"All senior hands, hear this: department heads to the ships briefing room, department heads to the ships briefing room. That is all."

John smiled with the naval talk coming in over the ship wide comm line. With the _Ark Royal's_ link to the sea it was nice for a marine to hear navy and marine speak coming from fleet speakers. But the problem remained that the _Ark Royal _for all her guns and ground ponders she was still a fleet ship of science her corridors were still had the rounded edges and flush carpets of a ship destine for nice and safe mission with a dash of luxury thrown in.

John preferred the bulky and sharp edges of the _Defiant _class – there was a bird who knew what it was about, a bird of prey. John mulled over the different ships he had been on and their suitability for the more war like life of the marines that they carried through the stars. Soon John was walking through the briefing room doors with a stride that straddled the divide between a full-blown march and formal walk.

"Sarge Major"

"Boss man."

John came to attention as the Captain of the _Ark Royal _stared at him from the head of the table, his antennae moved ever so slightly out of time as if each trying to get a gauge of the only standing man in the room. John smiled as he waited as usual for the Andorian Captain Kranne to allow him to sit down; the Andorian suited the red of the uniform, it somehow made him look like the elder statesman with his greying goatee that framed a set of thin expressive lips. And with his hands clasp together on the table you could be forgiven of thinking of some of the self-glorifying holo-shot some long forgotten President of the Federation would have commissioned them for his first year in office.

"Take post, marine commander."

"Sir."

With a click of John's less than shiny boots he walked over to where the Executive Officer was sitting, it seemed odd that for all of her mixed heritage only her teeth showed any trace of human lineage, as well as a damn good dentist, but Bryant knew better than to bring it up…Klingon mother and all…John nodded and slipped in behind her taking his post. There were only seats enough for the senior commissioned crew so John stood in an over watch position beside the XO it didn't overly bother John as it helped reinforce the image of the marines as mean green fighting machines.

There was a lull for a few moments before Lt. Commander Kagga Grenne spoke to the assembled multitude, another thing John liked about the _Ark Royal _was thatprotocol and officers duties were followed to the nth degree, which was why the XO was starting to brief as she was the link to the Captain in terms of rank in the room.

"This briefing is taking place to inform you of what is expected of each department during this routine familiarisation exercise. And if we are very luck a little bit of shore leave thrown into the mix too"

"Great!"

One of the babies of the crew piped up when it wasn't proper to do so. His mop of blonde hair looked like a lion cub's mane; so much promise, but lacking in any sort of experience. And his voice sounded a little too excitable to belong to the Chief medic on ship. But Lt jg Tam Weathers comment did much to lighten the mood and even got John smiling. Tam was trying to act cool but was obviously finding it very difficult to gauge how his comment was taken; his clear green eyes were floundering as he tried to catch the gaze of the less senior officers in the briefing room.

"Here, here Ell-tee"

Bryant jump in and the doctor looked up and nodded ever so slightly, quite a deft reply to the Sarge Major's lifeline, there was promise for the young man but he needed to see some real action; and the _Ark Royal_ wasn't the first on Starfleet command's list for ultra hazardous and promotion enhancing jobs.

Kagga shifted slightly in her chair, the Klingon warrior woman no doubt a little upset at Bryant for encouraging the child. For at 26 and barely two years out of the academy Mr. Weathers had the somewhat dubious distinction of being the ships boy in any briefing. Again the briefing room fell into silence as the more senior crew members kept quiet and waited for the Executive to carry on.

"As I was saying this is primarily a familiarisation exercise for the 67th flotilla stationed on the planet to see what we can offer in the way of amphibious and air support. The exercise is set to last for between a week to a fortnight with at least three different exercises, at this point the Sergeant Major will carry on the brief…"

John clipped his heels in response and moved quickly to the big briefing screen that was already a jumble of lines and imaged which he had to quickly translate into some meaningful spiel.

"Thank you, Ma'am. The units we will be working with form the 67th flotilla, at present the flotilla consists of three Manta class submersibles that carry the longbow surface to space torpedo system; we won't be exercising with them so that's all you need to know. The surface fleet of the flotilla is a carrier battle group based round the carrier Minsk and the amphibious assault ship Al Jabar; finally the frigate Rogue acts as armed support for the Al Jabar while the destroyers Romulus and Remus with their two type X batteries apiece deal with overall group security and provide the orbital fire umbrella.

We will exercise with the entire battle group over the three days playing friend and foe. Exercise details will be piped up to us once we are bedded in up here."

Bryant nodded over to the sea dog of the group whose greying beard looked it has caught the last sea salt from when the fleet had finally left the sea; whose eyes behind overly large black spectacles looked as if they had been handed out by a blind medic. But Bryant wasn't about to tell that to the Chef tactical officer of the _Ark Royal, _after all Johan Black was the one who rammed torpedoes down an enemies throat, a throat usually less than a hundred feet away from John in any given direction.

"And what about little old me, sugar dumpling?"

'Sugar dumpling' the words could have come from a kindly old grandma with all the understanding and calm in them; but instead they came from a woman who had the body of an angel and the silky voice of a siren, but with her spiky red hair any meaningful comments on personailty traits were always left in a limbo of the strange contradictory mix of feminine whiles and masculine hair cut. And what made it worse was that a lot of the senior male crew thought she knew how to play on it, John included; but that's what made the Chief scientist Ensign Lex King a part of the family.

"Ensign, the sugar dumpling is not a scientist but a marine, as such I will answer that question: you will be liasing with the shipyards staff on how best to best adapt the ships sensors to serve aquatic based scientific work."

Lex nodded quickly as the Andorian finished his speech, his voice carrying the edge of someone who was less than ok with the use of such frivolous language in his briefing room. The captain leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together.

John knew that Lex had a good mad on, the usual after a briefing rant went along the line of she was the scientist among 'club wielding macho-maniacs', her words, on a bad day. But with the promise of some shore leave everyone was mellowing out a little; even John was thinking past the exercises and to the bars where he would have a few beers, the good bars, the old bars, the all or nothing bars, but even John had to admit they weren't too rough.

He was getting too old for that sort of thing. The promise of shore leave was having more of an effect than he had first thought; somehow he had missed the fact the command crew had left. Kranne looked over before he stood up with that regulation issue look that gave nothing away but didn't hide much either.

"Sir, lets not start this again."

"Start what, John?"

"God damn it, Sir, Sarah is one hell of a COB!"

Kranne moved from his chair and looked out over the inviting blue green tapestry of Julian four. His hands clasped behind his back in the classic at ease posture.

"She is good at her job, but you have more experience, so how is the enlisted crew?"

"The marines are good. Don't have the foggiest bout the fleet side of things boss."

The Andorian moved away from the windows and brought his hands to his side as his MCO dodged the question with ease. Kranne's brow furrowed slight as his highest enlisted marine used his experience to answer his question yet leave out the bit his captain wanted to hear.

"Sergeant Major…."

"No Lt. Colonel…"

John dived back down the Captain's throat referring to the Andorians standing in his own armed forces…

"Sarah is your COB and she is good at it, you want to know how the fleet enlisted are going ask her; I'm up to my eyeballs trying to keep the _Albion_ and _Bulwark _combat ready with trained marines to use them. I haven't got the time to do Sarah's job as well."

Kranne moved forward as if to say something short and sharp but relented mid stride. For a second the air became heavy and strained between the two men as each one stubbornly stuck to their viewpoints. Kranne then chuckled to himself.

"Damn this fleet with women in it."

John just sighed to release the pent up aggression and anger that their little spat had created. Bryant took his captains lead and walked back toward the windows as they both looked down upon their next area of operations for a few quiet moments.

"Sir, really Sarah is good at what she does after all I was the one that recommend her to you."

A second or two more silence followed as Kranne realised he had been caught out with his own word game. A small smile flickered across his lips as he sighed a deep sigh.

"Alright you have me this time Chief, but…"

"'But' Sir?"

"But….never mind, Sergeant Major… Now what are you going to be doing on these couple of days of shore leave."

"If everything follows form, looking after the fleet crew."

John clicked his heels and left the observation lounge leaving the captain alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that always swirled around the role of the _Ark Royal _if the Federation ever went into a situation where the _Ark _would be needed.

His ship was one that was designed to break through an atmosphere, deliver two open topped patrol boats into harms way and then rain down fire in support of their operations. Any mission would result in them taking a battering, the ship would be pummelled relentlessly and the marines in the ships harassed by fire every second their supported their larger ocean based brethren. Casualties would be a certainty with fatalities being a dam strong probability.

But Kranne knew that they would probably never be called to fight as their kind of warfare was hardly fought unless the war raged across systems and sectors… but still, if war had taught him anything one thing was sure… you could never second guess how and where the next conflict would spark up.

**Imperial Naval Patrol Base Julian  
**Julian four

"So our own Emperor had an impostor in our universe."

"Yes, and it appears the anti-emperor was the one that cause the Vulcans to gain that sick value of ethics."

Nathan sat on the bench that looked out over the mass of metallic sharks that was the fleet that protected the naval yard and ships that would slice trough the waters in the name of the immortal Empire. Nathan wondered again if this was just one more set piece in a game of chess where the Admiral played both sides. Alderhay allowed himself to breathe deeply and relax a little, but one hand still stayed firmly on his phaser. Alexia sat down next to him and took of her peak cap and placed in on her lap gently holding it with both hands as if she were nervous.

"So Captain Alderhay, are you going to take me in?"

Nathan shifted on the bench as he weighed up everything he had heard.

"Take you in Admiral? Before your exercise commences, the very reason I am here… no, let us watch the exercise first."

**Federation Naval Base Julian  
**_Julian four_

John was only half joking when it came to looking after the fleet crew when they were enjoying their first couple of days R&R. And as the transporter beam released him he had the passing thought that maybe he should let the Naval Patrol look after them. Apart from the fact one operated on good old-fashioned water and one in space they were both very similar services, sister services even.

Bryant quickly walked off one of the very large personnel pads and made his way through the base. All around him the mass of naval personnel went about their business; all wearing the kind of jump suit Captain Archer would have recognised. John preferred the Patrol's uniform as to him it was more practical and based around operational necessity. While Fleet uniform always looked a little too tailored. John however wasn't in uniform at all; a battered old pair of beige hiking boots and a pair of blue jeans replaced his combat boots and fatigue pants. And instead of webbing he wore a black t-shirt and brown long sleeve shirt whose sleeves were rolled up.

Bryant moved with ease through the traffic as he used the short cuts and shadow draped corridors not much liked by the commissioned members of any force. One nice thin about Naval bases were they were near the sea and soon John was walking on a sandy walkway that straddled the beach and the road. Bryant gazed out over the sea and the sun that was setting in its deep red blanket of clouds.

John started thinking about things, about the near constant threat of the demobilisation of the _Ark Royal_ and the separation of her crew. That didn't really bother the Sergeant Major, marine units had already been cut and sliced, folded, re-folded, stuck together then rebuilt again; everything was done to make sure the Corps actually had a half decent order of battle at hand at a time when the Federation had been in a long twelve round fight with the Dominion.

But John had to admit the _Ark _was feeling like a home and he would be sad if everyone had to be re-assigned. Bryant started thinking over the likely hood of that happening. But he was rudely interrupted as someone started getting a little too close to him; John felt the eyes on the back of his neck and on that cue John's fists went limp ready to respond to any instruction his brain deemed fit to give them.

"Hey, John!"

"Bloody hell, Lex, don't they teach you not to sneak up on folks in the academy?"

"Sorry Sergeant Major, my fault. Lex has been showing me around."

"Well, Doc, follow the Ensign's lead. Off duty it's John."

John smiled, as Lt Weathers was obviously knocked sideways by the sudden change from professionalism to friendship. Lex however was an old hand at the personality quick change. Soon the three had found a bar and were sitting down to drinks, Lex raised an eyebrow when she saw the slightest bulge in the middle of John's left thing, just where his belt lay. John just smiled, marines were always ready for anything, and on a ship like the _Ark _not many would question the MCO carrying a piece while off duty.

"So, er, John what you want to drink?"

"That's a surprise, an officer offering an enlisted a drink!"

"Knock it off, Sarah, the kid's trying…sorry Ell-Tee."

The Chief of the Boat walked round and pulled a chair out, John was smiling at the kid…Chief Medical Officer…partly to put him at ease and party to annoy Master Chief Petty Officer Gibson up but not letting her see his eyes. She sat down and looked Dr Weathers' way.

"I'm sorry, Doc, had a tough day…"

"It's alright, Chief I know I'm the new boy…"

John broke into the sentimental rally between the two.

"But you do deserve the respect due to someone who has got through the academy."

"Careful, John. You aren't chief of the boat and you know how darn stubborn greenies are."

Lex came in and defused what had become a regular argument between the two enlisted; Sarah didn't like John muscling in on her job but the Sergeant Major couldn't help but give advice. Bryant stood down first and nodded his surrender to the group. Sarah leaned in.

"So what are we drinking? Don't worry Doc you can cover the tab."

The group gave Sarah their orders; John asked to be 'surprised'. Dr Weathers leaned back and began to speak with an annoying pleading tone in his voice that got to John.

"I didn't upset the Master Chief did I Sergeant Major? She just seemed a little terse."

"Look, Doc, number one it's John, I'll let you know when it's time to call me Sarge Major. And number two the Master Chief has just had a bad day, bad form to take it out on you though, sir."

USS Ark Royal In standard orbit of Julian Four

Bryant was back in his duty fatigues, he would have liked to have his web vest on, but the Nova wasn't the biggest ship ever built; and so certain personal sacrifices had to be made. John was half way into the bridge as the bridge played a trick on the marine commander and quickly moved around him.

John's body was aware of the electric change in every single atom around him, sound exploded into a maelstrom of angry tones and terrified notes, John's sight however was the only sense he trusted right now to tell him what was going on…it showed his Captain screaming orders…. but Bryant couldn't hear him…but most of all it showed him the bridge bathed in deathly red light, code red, red alert. Bryant suddenly felt hands going under his armpits followed by a quick jerk upward, only a Klingon could pull that off,

"Thanks Exec."

John didn't hear anything back as his ears were still ringing; he looked toward the turbolift that stood silent and empty, its rearward panels now looking like the jagged teeth of a shark about to bite. Bryant made his way through a bridge that was still reverberating with the shock waves of multiple torpedo strikes against the shields.

"…Torpedoes, switch to high orbit."

John had finally got some semblance of hearing back and had caught the back end of Kranne's instructions. They made sense a higher orbit gave them time to dodge what John assumed to be ground launched munitions; they were tricky devils that used the ionosphere to veil their terminal guidance phase. So the first a ship knew of them was when they were on their final dash toward certain suicide.

"Not good, marine."

"Show me Johan."

Bryant gripped the edge of the tactical station as he looked at an upside display of all the tactical activity for the prior 15 minutes. Every sinew in John's body was ready for another strike; they weren't disappointed.

"Torpedoes bearing 023, 045! Launching countermeasures!"

'Won't work' skipped across John's worried and furrowed brow. A gout of blue flame darted from a nearby console proving John right, his knuckles were white as he barely kept his footing. A chorus of screams rose and fell around him as the department heads yelled their status out for everyone else to hear.

John's hands had already tapped in a command that would weave its way down to his boys, sit tight and keep safe. Marines couldn't influence this battle…but they still had to be ready to and able to fight.

But as soon as the devil had dived through the ripped turbolift wall on distributed fear and confusion among the mortal he had vanished, leaving only blackened wall plates and shattered consoles as his signature.

John went back to analysing the data and what he was seeing he couldn't quite believe. Johan saw the look on the marines face and made room for him the right side of the station. Bryant swore he could still feel his brain swimming and he hoped that was affecting his interpretation of the data before him. Soon his head found its equilibrium and John was aware of a lot more people on the bridge the majority of their number being engineers sent up to secure the bridge after the attack.

"Blue on blue."

John whispered the words as if they were an evil ancient spell of immense dark power. The torpedo salvo, a very real event, now seemed fragmented and disassociated from the reality now caught up in conceptual notions of fire that was friendly.

John hardly noticed the scene around him, the screams, the alarms, the claxons; his entire mind was focussed on the nightmare scenario of anyone, regardless of if they were in the Fleet or the Corps. John looked up to see Kranne and Kaga stalking toward him through the debris thrown about the bridge. Kranne looked at him for moment straight in the eyes.

"Conference room now. CTAC bridge is yours, run continuous sensor scans and be ready for evasion; you do not have permission to return fire."

"Very good, Captain, run continuous scans and be ready for evasion, all weapons cold. Aye sir."


End file.
